


Bookshelves

by charbax



Category: Paladins: Champions Of The Realm (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, just support from best gwampa, there is no shame here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 02:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14322267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charbax/pseuds/charbax
Summary: It's just you, Torvald, and his library on a rainy day. All fluff, no angst.





	Bookshelves

**Author's Note:**

> I had this saved on my computer for ages and decided to upload it bc why not. At this point i'm beyond shame lmao

If a single bookshelf can convey a person’s life, then Torvald’s personal library must have multitudes and multitudes of lives, you concluded.

Spanning from the ceiling to the cobbled stone floor, the dark oak shelves was brimming with books, loose papers, inkpots of varying levels of ink, and other assorted knick-knacks that made you want to spend weeks and weeks finding, like hunting for treasures. It was all lit by the candles carefully placed away from the precious tomes, casting a glow even in the darkest corners. The smell of parchment and fresh ink was heavy and comforting like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Even the hushed rain outside seemed to add to the ambivalence of the atmosphere, like a veil separating the world from this dimension of knowledge and comfort.

And the books! Some of them were bound in soft leather, others held together by thread and twine, some with pages as thin as butterfly wings. Gilded ones too, swirling around the corners and flecked like spots of gold. And some so old and wrinkled, you were scared they will turn to dust the moment your hand brushed against them.

Unfortunately, that’s preciously what Torvald has asked for you to do. Maybe not brushing your finger on old book spines, but helping him bring books together to a steadily growing pile beside him; he insisted that he was fine reading out loud passages to you for proof-reading (while your understanding of runic magic was bare at best, Torvald had that innate ability to turn a dry passage into a spoken poetry with his reading voice alone), but you insisted in return that no, it would be great to help in any way, it’s alright really!

So his face crinkled in a warm smile and he asked to bring the book just over there, the one with the silver lettering. The only red one on the entire bookshelf, you can’t miss it. They were simple instructions really, if you were looking back in hindsight.

…but what if he meant the other book that was no-where close to red? You took half a step towards it, hand hovering in front of the spine, but then your eyes glanced back at the possibly-red-I-have-no-idea-send-help book. They both have silver, which one could he have meant?!

The next time Torvald looked up in thought, he saw you still rooted to the same spot you always have been, hand still held out in front of the bookshelf, shoulders hunched in uncertainty. “Just in front of you dear.” He said encouragingly. His voice jolted you back into action, and in fluster, you carefully slide the book from its resting place and scurry back to him and his parchments. The book was placed near the table edge, in fear of messing with Torvald’s disorganised organisation of open tomes, loose leaf papers, and quills in front of him. Still, he gave another warm smile at you when you sat in the chair next to him.

“Excellent! Thanks for bringing it.”

Torvald’s praise still manages to bring a smile to your face, despite the furrow in your eyebrows. Apparently, this was a terrible combination, because Torvald notices your expression and asked “What’s the long face for?”

His was so open, his voice so kind, that you couldn’t help but sigh. “I’m worried about messing anything up – your notes, your writing, your library. And I…yeah, that’s all I got.”

“You didn’t mess up anything. In fact, your help has been impeccable.”

“But I didn’t do anything!”

“You’re keeping me company and have been a patient listener to my theories. That’s plenty enough. You’re doing fine sweetie.”

For emphasis, he curled his (non-gauntleted) hand around your shoulder, pulling you closer and patting it comfortingly. You couldn’t help but lean into his side, almost engulfed in his robes, which seemed to be infused with the scent of the library itself. And you were certain you felt a kiss being pressed on the top of your head.

When he pulled back, you were smiling back at him. It was small, and a little unsure, but there. “Thanks.”

Torvald gave one last pat, then let his arm rest on your shoulder as he brought up another parchment and started reading it out loud. You settled down, letting his voice wash over you with the rhythm of the pouring rain outside.


End file.
